part0013

The coachman cracked his whip, giving the horses a freer rein. The carriage leapt forward. Lise clung to the handle by the door, laughing in delight as the wind tugged at her bonnet and dragged her hair free to whip against her cheeks.

"You should sit," Marie-Augusta said from behind her. "The road may be uneven. I would hate for you to fall."

Lise reluctantly drew back from the window, and sat on the bench opposite the other woman. "I’ve never been so far from Vienna before," she confessed. "It’s exciting."

Marie-Augusta smiled. "I know," she said, "but you ought to save a little excitement for Bad-Vöslau." She glanced at the window, then back to Lise. "Come." She patted the leather-cushioned bench beside her. "You would see much better if you sat here."

Lise always felt flustered when the Archduchess drew her near, even after months of closeness. She knew her cheeks were flushing, but she obeyed. The floor swayed beneath her feet, and she stumbled. Marie-Augusta caught her arms, laughing.

"You see. The road can be treacherous."

Lise blushed more deeply, sitting down beside her quickly. If she was a little closer than she needed to be, what of it? "I’ll be more careful," she promised.

Marie-Augusta's broad smile softened into the more familiar, secret one they often shared. "Good." She patiently loosened the tangled knot in the ribbon of Lise's bonnet. "You should not be bruised."

Lise gazed at her as Marie-Augusta removed her bonnet, as serious as a Priest giving Mass. "Your Highness…" she began.

Dark eyes met hers reproachfully. "Lise, please."

Lise lowered her eyes. It still made her heart skip a beat. "Augusta," she said softly.

Marie-Augusta sighed with pleasure. "Not so difficult, is it?" she teased, setting to work, putting Lise's disordered hair back in order. Her fingertips brushed Lise's cheeks, curling behind her ears. "God in Heaven, you look as if you tumbled backwards through a hedge."

Lise put out her tongue. "As you look each morning before I get a brush?"

Marie-Augusta's lips twitched. "Why do I tolerate your insolence?"

Lise shrugged, then shivered as Marie-Augusta's nails trailed down the side of her neck, light as a breath of wind.

"I don't know." Her voice was catching. She saw the pleasure and the colour rise in Marie-Augusta's round cheeks. She loved to set Lise to trembling with only the lightest of touches. Lise swallowed hard, her heart drumming. "I think you like it."

The fingertips drew back up, the nails tracing lightly.

Lise's tongue darted out to wet her lips. Sometimes, when Marie-Augusta looked at her, she wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss her, but now, she knew she could not. As always, they had to act with care.

It was difficult when Marie-Augusta's fingers ran across the back of her neck. They were alone, unattended, for the first time in days.

"My bonnet." She was proud that she managed to speak clearly.

Marie-Augusta sighed sadly. "Ah. Propriety." She retrieved the abandoned bonnet, setting it back in place, and tied the ribbon neatly.

Lise offered an apologetic smile. "Windows," she clarified. Still, she settled closer to Marie-Augusta, as close as possible with their travelling skirts between them. She drew Marie-Augusta's hand over to her lap and held it there, warm and resting high upon her thighs. "Tonight, there will be curtains."

She heard the way Marie-Augusta's breath caught, and did not need to look to know her mistress was smiling like a cat. "Fine curtains," she agreed. "And a door too, I expect. With a lock."

Lise's face felt warm. She pressed her cheek to Marie-Augusta's shoulder. Marie-Augusta's fingers threaded between hers, and Lise gazed down at them. Gloves separated them, fine, rich fabric for the Archduchess, and plainer cloth for her maid.

Lise drew her thumb along her lady's.

She had no idea why Marie-Augusta liked her, but the Archduchess did, and Lise sometimes wondered if it was sinful to consider herself blessed that such a woman, of the line of Habsburgs and the descendent of Emperors, had even noticed her. Marie-Augusta was not just beautiful, but kind and playful too. Anyone would fall in love with a woman like that.

"Is it a long way from here?" she asked.

Marie-Augusta's fingers pressed lightly to hers. "Long enough." She was silent for a moment, then asked, "Tell me another tale."

"What kind of tale?"

"Of the opera?" Marie-Augusta's voice brightened. "You must know so many."

Lise smiled. The City Opera was where they had found one another, when Marie-Augusta had demanded to meet the dresser of the leading lady's hair. All at once, Lise found herself swept from backstage into a palace, and raised from tending actresses to tending royalty.

"Do you remember the production of Die Fledermaus , two years ago?"

Marie-Augusta gave an unladylike snort. "Yes."

Lise giggled. It had been a memorable production for the worst of reasons. "I can tell you some of the trouble that was had."

Marie-Augusta settled back against the seat. "Do."

By the time they reached their destination, Lise knew she was repeating stories Marie-Augusta had already heard, but Marie-Augusta never seemed to mind. She loved to hear tales from a world so different, yet so similar to her own: everyone had their roles, their costumes, their positions. Everyone had to do what they were told, and behave just so.

It was no wonder that the theatre was an escape for her.

They arrived at the palace of Bad-Vöslau in the afternoon. It was warm, the sky clear except for a scatter of clouds. The palace was not as grand as the palace that Marie-Augusta's family lived in, close to the Hofburg in Vienna, but it was still far grander than the rest of Bad-Vöslau.

Lise helped Marie-Augusta down from the carriage, then fell back into the more appropriate position, several paces behind her, as Marie-Augusta moved forward to greet the Count and Countess von Fries who would be hosting them.

The manners were stiff and formal. Lise knew she would be ignored by everyone except servants until she was needed. She watched as Marie-Augusta was swept off to be reunited with her mother and sister, then looked about nervously.

Several servants were already moving forward to unload the luggage, and one of them smiled and said she could go with them to the room to await her lady. She nodded gratefully, picking up Marie-Augusta's book, and followed.

The lobby of the building was as grand as any Lise had seen, and she hurried after the servants, her boots tapping on the floor. They were halfway up the main stairs when she heard some of the servants' voices drifting up from below.

"They say she didn't bring a single one of her companions."

"Not one? I thought her mother said she would bring the Countess Mistelbach?"

Lise stopped short on the stairs, her heart thumping.

Mistelbach was one of the group of women who surrounded Marie-Augusta, yapping like annoying little dogs. They were always there, put in place by Marie-Augusta’s mother, the Archduchess Ludovika. Mistelbach was older than Marie-Augusta, and from an ancient family, which she never got tired of reminding everyone about. If she was expected to attend, Archduchess Ludovika would not be happy to find her absent.

“There was a room prepared…” The voices below faded as the servants moved out of range.

Lise was holding Marie-Augusta's book so tightly that her palms ached.

Questions would be asked—if Marie-Augusta was defying her mother.

Lise gathered up her skirts, hurrying after the train of cases, trying not to think on it. She was here as Marie-Augusta's dresser and nothing more. She had no right to question Marie-Augusta's decisions, no matter how much she might agree with them.

The room she was shown into was beautifully furnished, with thick drapes and carpets on the polished marble floor. The scent of flowers filled the room, drifting from a bowl thick with colourful blooms. She crossed the floor, flinging one of the windows wide. It was so very unlike the closed in streets of the city, the air fresh and fragrant.

Despite herself, she smiled.

Once the household servants departed, she closed the door behind them—and there was indeed a heavy lock and key—and removed her travelling clothes, then set about putting Marie-Augusta's possessions in order. They were only to stay for a week, but there were sufficient clothes and jewellery for all occasions.

She was arranging the dresser, with its ornate gilded mirror, when the door was flung open. Lise almost dropped the brush in alarm at the look on Marie-Augusta's face. She was white with rage, and turned, closing the door, locking it. She remained there, rigid as a statue, her hands on the polished knobs.

Lise rushed to her side. "What is it? What has happened?"

"I am to write to Mistelbach." Marie-Augusta's voice was level. She was staring at the door. "She is to attend upon me while I am here."

Lise stepped closer, putting her arms about Marie-Augusta's waist. "Surely it is your decision."

One of Marie-Augusta's hands moved to cover Lise's. "My decision was to bring you in her stead. It is…I am to be grateful that the Count's household does not have an available dresser, else they might return you to Vienna."

Lise's legs shook beneath her. "She is a more suitable companion.”

“She is nothing but my mother’s eyes and ears,” Maria-Augusta growled.

It was never good when she was angry. More than once, there had been broken dishes and overturned furniture. It had never been turned against Lise, not once in fourteen months, but she had seen it too many times to let it get worse.

“She’s not here yet,” Lise said softly.

“She will be, soon enough.”

Lise pressed against her mistress’ back, sliding one arm up and the other down. She felt Marie-Augusta’s ribs rise and fall as she sighed. “But not yet,” Lise said again. She spread one hand on Marie-Augusta’s chest, feeling the flutter of her heart against her palm.

Some of the tension left Marie-Augusta’s body. “I told them I wished to rest and refresh myself from the journey,” she murmured.

Lise hid a smile in the ruffles of Marie-Augusta’s sleeve. “Oh?”

“Mm.” Her hand covered Lise’s again, squeezing. “I must be out of these travelling clothes.”

Lise rose on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to her neck. “I can help.”

When Marie-Augusta turned to face her, colour was returning to her face, and she was smiling warmly once more. “I know you can,” she said, drawing Lise into her arms.

The sun was lower in the sky when Marie-Augusta rose from the bed and went to the window, looking out over the grounds. She drew her shawl around her shoulders, and bowed her head, her hair unravelled in dark waves.

Lise sat on the edge of the bed, fastening her buttons. “Do you want me to fetch your paper and pen?” She kept her voice gentle. It was true Marie-Augusta was calmer now, but she was still unhappy.

“I must do as mother wishes.”

Lise knew she could not dispute the fact. She rose and padded across the floor, the marble cool through her stockings. Marie-Augusta’s writing set was on top of the drawers. She carried it over to the desk. It only took her a moment to lay it all out, but when she straightened up, her mistress was by her side.

“I would rather have had you to myself,” Marie-Augusta confessed, lifting her hand to cradle Lise’s cheek. “They flock around me like hungry sparrows, never giving me a moment’s peace.” Her thumb ran along Lise’s cheek, and Marie-Augusta tried to smile, but it faltered. “I had hoped…” She shook her head, then brushed Lise’s loose blonde hair back over her shoulder. “Forgive me, Lise. I grow maudlin.”

Lise hesitated, then leaned up and kissed her mistress softly on the cheek, then again on the lips.

It earned a smile. A small one, but still a smile.

“You are so very lovely.” Marie-Augusta drew back reluctantly, her fingertips skimming Lise’s jaw as she pulled her hand back. She glanced at the clock on the mantle. “You should go and eat. You must be famished.”

“Only a little,” Lise replied. “Would you like anything?”

Marie-Augusta shook her head. “I will attend dinner with my family and our hosts.” She sounded so exhausted by the idea that Lise reached out and squeeze her hand in silent reassurance. Marie-Augusta returned the touch. “No need to worry, darling. I will be well.” The smile was like frost on glass: beautiful but fading quickly. “Now, run along. I could not bear to see you get skinny.”

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” Lise promised.

“No need to rush.”

Lise looked at her. “Your hair, your Highness.”

Marie-Augusta raised a hand to her hair, then winced. “God above, did you need to tangle it so?”

Lise felt herself blush. “I’m the one to untangle it, so you needn’t complain.”

That earned a laugh. “Off with you, then! And hurry! I must look respectable for dinner, not half-savaged.”

Lise pulled a face and darted out of the door, smiling.

Sadly, such moments of private pleasure only lasted until Countess Mistelbach arrived at the palace. Lise sat on her small cot in an alcove of Marie-Augusta’s room, trying to go unnoticed, as Marie-Augusta and her mother argued that she and Mistelbach ought to share one of the larger chambers on the upper level, as good companions should.

“I hardly think so!” Marie-Augusta protested. “I am quite settled here. I see no reason why I should have all my things packed and moved simply because your guest came late.”

“It’s hardly fitting that you should share a room with a servant! And that…theatre-girl no less!”

Lise’s fingers curled into the blankets and she bit her lip to keep from crying.

“Get out.” Marie-Augusta’s voice was ice-cold.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I would like you to leave my chamber, Mother,” she said. “I have come this far. I have invited your precious Countess. I will entertain and be entertaining. But I will not change my rooms, and I will not tolerate you insulting my maid.”

The Archduchess was silent for so long that Lise almost thought she had left. When she spoke, her voice was as cool and hard as Marie-Augusta’s. “We have allowed you too many indulgences.” Her footsteps tapped on the floor, her skirts whispering, echoed by her daughter’s. When she spoke next, her voice was so low that Lise could barely hear her. “Consider your position, Augusta. You are not your own to do with as you please. You are a Habsburg. You must behave accordingly. ”

The door closed. It was not slammed, but the quiet click had the same effect.

Lise dared not move, her fingers still clenched tightly in the blankets. She felt ill. She had never been present when Marie-Augusta and her mother argued before. It felt like she was intruding on something she had no right to hear.

Marie-Augusta’s footsteps approached her alcove. “Lise?”

“I’m here.” Her voice sounded so small, even in her own ears. She blinked hard, fighting back tears, then looked up at her mistress. Marie-Augusta looked as drawn as she felt. Lise lifted her hands, holding them out, and Marie-Augusta fell into her embrace, holding her tightly. Lise’s fingers curled against Marie-Augusta’s back. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, darling?” Marie-Augusta’s words were warm against her neck.

Lise couldn’t contain the quiet sob that shook her. “She makes you so upset, and all because I am here. I should have stayed in Vienna. I make things worse for you.”

Marie-Augusta drew back enough that she could look at Lise, her dark eyes wide. “No, no, no, my little darling,” she said, her voice breaking as much as Lise’s. She lifted her hand to cup Lise’s cheek, pressing her brow to Lise’s. “If you were not here, it would be worse. It would be unbearable.”

Lise’s heart lurched. There were tears on Marie-Augusta’s face, rolling down her cheeks. She lifted her hand to brush them away, and Marie-Augusta pressed her cheek to Lise’s palm.

“Don’t cry,” Lise whispered. “Please don’t.”

Marie-Augusta nodded. She blinked hard, to clear her eyes, but that only set fresh tears down her cheeks. “Forgive me.” She swept them away with a fingertip, and her fragile smile returned. “I have so few people who truly care for me.”

“You are loved…” Lise started to protest.

“They only see the Archduchess and the Princess. Blood and titles are not who I am, Lise. You know that.”

“Yes,” Lise agreed quietly. “You are bad poetry.”

Marie-Augusta’s lips twitched. “None would believe that.”

“And awful dancing.”

There was almost a smile. “You are treading a fine line, darling.”

Lise looked at her as seriously as she could. “And you have breath like a mule in the morning.”

Marie-Augusta’s eyes widened in genuine astonishment, then she caught Lise round the middle, pinning her down on the narrow bed she had not yet slept in. Lise squirmed, laughing, which only made Marie-Augusta smile more. “You, little cat, have large claws.”

Lise lifted her hand to touch Marie-Augusta’s cheek. “They gave you some colour again.”

Marie-Augusta tilted her head and let her lips graze Lise’s fingertips. With regret in her eyes, she sat up. “You know I must attend on mother and her lapdogs during the day now.”

“I know,” Lise murmured, sitting up. “But the nights will be ours.”

To her surprise and pleasure, Marie-Augusta’s cheeks reddened, and her eyes shone. “I thank God every day that I asked after your name at the Opera.” She clasped Lise’s hands. “You have made this cage so much brighter.”

Lise lifted their joined hands to her lips, kissing her knuckles. “You should go to play your part,” she said, “or your mother might come back.”

Marie-Augusta shuddered. “Yes. We would not want that.” She rose from the bed, smoothing her skirts down. “Do I look suitable?”

“To me? Always.”

Marie-Augusta’s expression softened. “Flatterer.”

“Honest.” Lise smiled. “Why waste time pretending?”

Marie-Augusta cupped Lise’s cheek once more. “My lovely darling,” she murmured, as if she could hardly believe it. She smiled quickly. “I shall see you this evening. Until then, do as you please, and if any asks why, say you have my leave.”

Lise took her at her word.

She donned her bonnet and coat and set out to explore the gardens of the palace. She heard a few of the servants whispering as she passed, but she paid them no mind. Her mistress had given her leave to explore, and the beautifully tended gardens were such a change from the bustle of Vienna.

When she and Marie-Augusta reunited after supper, Lise presented her with a flower she had stolen from the garden. It was a rose, but instead of one plain colour, it had golden petals tipped in red.

Marie-Augusta fingered the petals as Lise unravelled her hair. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Lise, her mouth full of hairpins, made a sound of acknowledgement. She dragged the brush through her mistress’ hair, twisting it into a braid for sleeping. “You’re lucky I managed to get it with no one noticing,” she said, once she set aside the pins.

“Mm.” Lise wrapped a ribbon around the end of the braid. “I found an axe in the gardener’s toolbox. One of the houseboys chased me up the garden. He thought I had stolen it and was about to climb over the wall.”

Marie-Augusta stared at Lise’s reflection in the mirror. “You jest.”

Lise widened her eyes innocently. Her mother always said she could have persuaded the Saints to sin with that expression. “Do I?”

Marie-Augusta turned on the stool, looking up at her, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. One arm leapt out and pulled Lise closer. “Yes, you wicked tease.”

Lise laughed, bracing her hands on Marie-Augusta’s shoulders. “Part truth,” she corrected. “I did find an axe, and I did attack a rose bush with it.”

Marie-Augusta started laughing in earnest. “Lord in Heaven, the Count and Countess will demand that we are sent away!”

Let them , Lise wanted to cry out. Let them send us away somewhere without your mother or Mistelbach or the watchful servants .

It was not her place, though. She knew that. Marie-Augusta had obligations, and as much as she—as they both—hated them, the Habsburg lineage brought conditions. One could not be an Archduchess of the house of Habsburg and imagine that she was free to do as she pleased.

Though Lise didn’t say anything, something in her expression must have given her away. Marie-Augusta set down the rose in the small glass of water on the dresser, and rose.

“Come, darling,” she said, taking Lise’s hands. “I am very tired, and I imagine you must be too.”

“I am,” Lise confessed in a whisper.

With the curtains drawn and the candle snuffed, they could have done all manner of sinful things, but instead, in the quiet darkness, Marie-Augusta only held her. Marie-Augusta’s body was warm and soft against hers, and Lise fell asleep to the rhythm of her mistress’ breathing.

With the morning, Lise rose before Marie-Augusta, intending to go and eat quickly with some of the other household servants before waking her mistress. She was tying the stays of her gown when she heard the bedding shift.

“Where are you off to?”

Lise glanced over with a small smile. Marie-Augusta’s braid had come undone in the night, and her hair was a mess of wild curls around her face. “Some of the servants break their fast before the Master and Mistress wake. I thought I would join them.”

Marie-Augusta blinked at her like a sleepy cat. “Nonsense,” she said, patting the bed beside her. “I told the servants to bring me breakfast here. You shall stay with me and share it with me.”

Lise stared at her. “That…Augusta, they expect you downstairs, the Count and Countess.”

Marie-Augusta snorted and pushing her fingers through her hair. “The Count and his lady wife will be so preoccupied licking my mother’s shoes, I doubt they would even notice my absence.” She yawned widely. “Anyway, it is too late. My breakfast will arrive at nine o’clock, and you shall share it.”

It felt like the world had shifted beneath Lise’s feet.

Servants were not permitted to eat at the tables of their betters.

“I shouldn’t,” she said weakly.

Marie-Augusta smiled, sleepy and warm. “You shall. I insist.”

Looking back, days later, Lise realised that agreeing to sit down to breakfast with her mistress was the death knell.

No one said anything at once, but Lise heard the whispers, the sniggers among the servants. Marie-Augusta must have fared no better because she was grim and stony-faced each night when she returned to their shared chamber. Still, she always had a smile for Lise, and each night, they curled together.

Lise couldn’t help noticing that Marie-Augusta was holding her a little tighter, breathing a little harder, but she never said what had happened during the day. Lise didn’t dare to ask. She only tried to keep Marie-Augusta’s spirits up, though it became harder by the day.

When they finally returned to Vienna, Lise hoped the strange tension in the air would ease.

They had a day to themselves, when Archduchess Ludovika was elsewhere, and for a moment, all seemed well. Marie-Augusta doted on her. They walked together around the Ring. They visited the Prater and played skittles, though Marie-Augusta seemed distracted and even more melancholy than usual.

When she undid Marie-Augusta’s hair that night, Lise couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Has something happened?”

Her mistress looked up at her reflection. “My dear?”

“You have been so unhappy since our return,” Lise blurted out. “I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

Marie-Augusta lifted her hand to touch Lise’s, where it rested on her shoulder. “I know.” She sighed, brief and low. “I fear my mother has taken her grievances to my father.” Her fingers tightened on Lise’s. “Perhaps even my uncle.”

Lise trembled. The Emperor.

“What grievances?” she asked in a whisper, though she knew. She had known from the day Marie-Augusta started showing her favour. More so since the first day Marie-Augusta had smuggled her into a darkened alcove and kissed her, all soft lips and quickening breath.

Marie-Augusta only lowered her head. She looked so very tired.

Lise dropped the brush, and wrapped her arms tight around her mistress. “I don’t care if they’re angry,” she whispered fiercely. “They can be angry, but that won’t change anything. I am your maid…your woman. You chose me and I chose you and they can…” The treason almost stuck in her throat. “They can go hang!”

Marie-Augusta shook in her arms, and at first, Lise thought she was laughing, but when she looked at their reflections, Marie-Augusta wasn’t laughing. She was weeping, shaking with the ferocity of it. “Oh, my little darling,” she gasped out, her voice breaking. “They can do as they wish, and they shall.” She clung to Lise’s arms. “I dare not think what may happen.”

Lise held her tightly, pressing her face to Marie-Augusta’s hair. They would be parted. That was what Marie-Augusta feared. “They would have to drag me away,” she promised. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to.”

Hot tears were soaking through Lise’s sleeve. “Nor I you.” Marie-Augusta’s voice was trembling. “But my life is not my own.”

It felt like they were standing on two sides of a breaking bridge.

All Marie-Augusta had to do was jump from her side of the bridge, where only bad things happened to her. Yes, the bridge was shiny and golden and rich, but what was that really worth? Why couldn’t she be brave enough to do that? She was clever, and quick, and could easily get a post of a governess or even a teacher for young ladies. Why couldn’t she see she only had to jump?

Lise wanted to ask, but she didn’t know how, not when Marie-Augusta was already spent with tears and miserable.

The final toll of the bell came two days later.

The Archduchess Ludovika found Marie-Augusta in the library, where she had been helping Lise improve her letters. Lise scrambled up, curtseying to the Archduchess.

Lise wished she had the courage to refuse, to stay at Marie-Augusta’s side, but the Archduchess looked at her so coldly that she fled from the room, closing the door behind her. The hall was deserted. She looked around nervously, before pressing her ear to the door, straining to hear.

“…this shameless perversion.”

“Enough, Augusta!” The Archduchess’s voice was like the crack of a whip. “You have disgraced us before, but at least then you toyed within your own class. Must you go and roll about with the filth now?”

Lise felt ill, pressing one hand to her mouth.

There was a crash from within the room, a chair knocked over. “How dare you!”

“How dare I?” Marie-Augusta’s mother’s voice rose in fury. “You brought a theatre-girl into our household, and I overlooked it. You had been discreet enough before, but this? Walking with her? Eating with her? Treating that little slut as your equ…”

The sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh was followed by absolute silence.

“I love her, Mother.”

Outside the door, Lise had to lean against the panel of wood for support, her legs shaking.

The Archduchess laughed sharply. “Love? What does that have to do with anything? You are a Habsburg!” For a long moment, there was silence. “We have found you a match. He is…somewhat lower in rank, but in exchange for elevation, he is willing to overlook your…indiscretions.”

“This is not a choice, Augusta.”

“I will not have him.”

“And what will you have? Your little trollop’s name plastered across the news sheets? Her reputation dragged through the dirt? The Archduchess Marie-Augusta’s little whore, the one who pleasures women as well as men?”

“You would not dare.” Marie-Augusta sounded horrified. “Mother, please.”

Lise’s legs almost gave way beneath her. No , she wanted to sob. No. Don’t. Not because of me .

“I would not need to.” The Archduchess’s tone had softened, but it was the purr of a tiger. “Don’t you know how the servants gossip? I wouldn’t have to say anything. The longer you shame her and yourself, the more soiled a rag she becomes. For her sake, if you…care as you say, be rid of her and make yourself respectable. Send her back where she came from.”

Lise had to pull back from the door. She couldn’t listen anymore. Her hands were shaking and her cheeks were wet with tears. She sat down in the window seat opposite the door, fighting the hot sick feeling in her stomach.

When the Archduchess emerged, she smiled at Lise, a victor’s smile.

Lise stood numbly where she was. Through the open doorway, she could see Marie-Augusta seated in the chair by the mantle, her head buried in her hands.

On legs that felt like they were made of stone, Lise walked forward.

“You’re to marry?”

Marie-Augusta raised her face from her hands. “A fine man, I am told.” In half an hour, she looked like she had aged ten years. “How much did you hear?”

Lise’s throat burned. “Enough.” She took a quivering breath. “You didn’t need to…not for me…”

Marie-Augusta’s eyes were bright. “Of course I did, my silly darling,” she whispered.

Lise had to look away. Her tears fell, shining spots on the marble.

Marie-Augusta was at her side in a heartbeat. “Oh, no, sweet one, please don’t cry.” She gathered Lise in her arms. “You will be safe and well. You have your old position to return to after all.”

Lise blinked hard, trying to fight back the tears. “But what about you? You will be married to some strange man.”

Marie-Augusta cupped Lise’s cheek, and when Lise looked up at her, there was a flicker of a smile on her lips. “Then I will simply have to find a reason to go out.” She met Lise’s eyes. “Perhaps to the Opera.”

Lise’s heart felt like it flipped in her chest. Of course. Marie-Augusta was a patron of the City Opera. She had been for years. No one would question it. “You still have your private box?”

“Mm.” Marie-Augusta drew her closer, embracing her chastely. “I do.” Her lips were close to Lise’s ear, and her breath was warm. “It has a lock.”